


not normal

by tinysmallest



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon), steven universe future - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Greg is having just the worst fucking time, Steven Universe Future, Steven Universe Future Spoilers, god i love greg and steven and the relationship they have with each other, greg is such a good dad man, he doesn't have all the pieces of the puzzle here but he's about to get a very grim piece indeed, in one take too go me, takes place after 'growing pains', this is a little long but i banged this one out at butts o clock in the morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23160307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinysmallest/pseuds/tinysmallest
Summary: Greg wanted a family with Rose so much, and he knew that in doing this very normal thing, he and Rose would be creating something extraordinary, something unlike anything to exist before. Being the parent of a half-human, half-gem hybrid wouldn’t be easy, would be fraught with the weird and the confusing, but Greg was ready for that. He wanted a child, and he knew before they were born he would love them with everything in him.What Greg was most certainly not ready for, as no parent ever is, were the signs, years later, that something was very, very wrong with his son.
Relationships: Greg Universe & Steven Universe
Comments: 31
Kudos: 296





	not normal

Greg knew when they started this that they would be creating the most abnormal thing in the galaxy. A one of a kind. He was prepared for that, prepared to deal with whatever challenges came with raising a half-alien child.

And wasn't it the most normal thing in the world, too, to want a family? A million billion couples on this planet all had this moment when they looked at the love of their life and felt _I want to start a family with you, only you_ in the recesses of their soul, and then they went and _did_ it.

Why should he and Rose be any different? Why couldn't they have that normalcy? The first several months were a happy, tearful blur of buying baby clothes, picking out names, finding a bassinet. A stroller. Greg would curl up with his wife at night, like every other night, and his head would find her belly, and she (as she never _needed_ sleep and therefore was often awake) would stroke his hair as he listened to their baby move around inside of her.

When she did fall asleep, as inactivity and the sound of the waves tended to lull her eventually, he would whisper to the new life forming under his head, telling his future baby secrets he’d never even told Rose, promising that he’d be a better man, a better father, than his own parents had been. He wouldn’t always get it right, he’d mess up, but by god, he would analyze every single moment his parents made him feel lesser and he would do _better._ He would try, try so hard, even when the fear of failure crushed his lungs. _Because you, Steven or Nora? You will be worth all that and more._

He would wake in the soft golden rays of early morning with his head pillowed on Rose’s belly to find Rose smiling at him, eyes twinkling, and they would have a good giggle over how excited and anxious and happy they were to be parents. _We’re going to be parents. We’re going to be **parents!**_

Sometimes Greg understood why the normalcy of earth captured this glorious space goddess so. It was hard not to, when he felt high 24/7 over this most normal of human feats, when he would catch himself openly belting out songs at the car wash, when he would hum as he crossed off days on the calendar, when he would tell random strangers as he washed their cars _Hey, I’m going to be a father!_

Of course... at _this_ time, neither of them knew what this attempt at the most abnormal, normal thing in the world would mean for their lives, how it would end hers and rip a hole in his that would never heal.

When she was gone, Greg clung to that tiny shred of normalcy that reared up now and again. Taking Steven in a stroller on the boardwalk, chuckling and agreeing with old ladies who cooed how cute he was, daring to whisper as the tides of grief slowly let him without sobbing that of course his baby was beautiful; he looked so much like his mommy.

Taking Steven to get ice cream, pizza. An occasional rare treat of spending money at the arcade. Tooth fairy money, Santa, teaching him to ride a bike.

Little bits of normalcy among the heart-straining stress of begging for shelter in winter and trying to make cents stretch into dollars and seeking a babysitter who wouldn't blab to the whole world that his child wasn't fully human.

Those moments were everything. The air in his oxygen tank. Steven running up to him with an armload of arcade tickets and a grin that stretched from ear to ear to show off his missing front teeth could sustain him through weeks of irate customers and scant tips and hot, dirty, often thankless work.

And when the house was finished and Steven moved in with the gems, Greg could breathe a little easier--Steven finally, _finally_ had a consistent roof over his head--but at the same time would find his chest randomly constricting when he would wake in his van and automatically reach around next to him and find nothing but mattress.

Still... those little bits of normalcy, they remained his liferaft in a sea of uncertainty. Steven coming by the car wash to laugh and play and sometimes work with him. Meeting up on the boardwalk. Meeting up at the beach, spreading a blanket out on the sand for a jam session together. Steven was maybe fifteen minutes away by foot, and Greg milked that for all it was worth anytime Steven chose to spend his time with him.

And when at last the world was safe from the diamonds once and for all, normal changed, stabilized. Once the whole Spinel situation was set straight, everything seemed to settle.

Steven was safe, busy, happy. Greg let him talk about the school and felt pride beyond measure at the big ideas his boy had. He cautioned him, _Don't run yourself ragged,_ and Steven laughed and said no, don't worry, he'd be fine.

Bluebird interrupted their normal for a few days and... well if he were being honest, in a way, forever, at least for him.

The short hair still stung unbelievably.

But everyone was safe and sound and so Greg fixed the shorn hair and frightened, angry thoughts and renewed grief over realizing he was yet another modicum away from the man Rose had fallen in love with, and he returned to his car wash to smile at people going by and write music and occasionally help someone who needed a wash.

Being Sadie and Shep's manager was Steven's idea, a sudden, glorious lightbulb moment over dinner together at Fish Stew Pizza. And Greg couldn't pretend his heart didn't jump with excitement. He loved Sadie. Working with her was a dream. Shep seemed like a nice young person. Managing the Suspects had been an incredible blur of excitement and joy, surrounded by hopeful, excitable young people and music. He remembered the way Sadie had smiled at him, all bright and eager, and told him he was the best manager ever.

 _Suck it, Marty,_ a small bit of him that had never grown up crowed. _This_ was what music was all about. _This_ was what being a _manager_ was all about. Nurturing and encouraging young musicians in their craft, protecting them from those who would take advantage of them, helping them smooth out their rough edges and bring joy to others through their music.

To do that with a group that would be going _touring?_ And with a kid he already knew, to boot, so he wouldn't have to get to know _everyone_ all over again? Oh god. His heart screamed in delight at the idea.

But above all else, above everything, he was a father, and so despite the rush of excitement and joy and being flattered beyond belief, he hesitated.

Steven all but begged him to go. _You want this,_ he pleaded, _you want this **so much**. You'd be great, Dad, and Sadie and Shep and their friends could use your help. I'll be fine!_

So he let his son talk him into a change in normal.

The tour was wild fun; Greg had never completely forgotten the thrill of exploration, of seeing the country he lived in. Big cities and bright lights and miles of country road. Mountains, lakes, rivers, skyscrapers, concert halls. The kids were a dream. And aside from a few people trying to slip them rotten deals and one very unpleasant encounter at a concert, everything went smoothly.

It took a bit of getting used to, for his contact with Steven to be limited to phone calls, but eventually even that sting became normal. Not completely gone, but it hurt less than before. He made sure to call his son once a day even if only to leave an 'I love you' on his voicemail, and not more than an hour or two later he would find a heart emoji and then a 'love you too, best manager dad' in his texts.

Sometimes they'd be able to reschedule their daily call, sometimes not. It made sense. They were both busy people, after all. Steven hadn't talked about the school in awhile except to mention the first class graduated, but he had to imagine that the next quarter was quite a job to wrangle down.

Sometimes he worried. Steven was homeschooled. Steven was seventeen. Should he really be doing this?

But Steven was growing up. He needed to trust his son to make his own choices, didn't he? Greg never belonged in this part of his son's world. He was just... an old, fat, failed musician. He wasn't extraordinary enough to fit. If he tried to insert himself in it, he'd just break everything.

Steven's trust probably being the first thing.

So he swallowed down his worries and indulged in sharing silly stories and listening to Steven complain that quartzes didn't know the meaning of the word casual and for that matter neither did rubies, and they would laugh. Greg would ask Steven how he was doing and Steven would assure him he was fine. His tales of gem shenanigans on the boardwalk felt authentic. Greg believed him.

The call would last as long as either could make it, and end with I love yous, and Greg would hang up feeling a little melancholy that he was not there to see it all himself, but mostly good, because this new normal was full of so much wonder, and Steven was so, so happy for him, and he was so, so happy for himself, and it wouldn’t be forever, anyway. Home would still be there when the tour ended and oh, the stories he’d have for his son!

Sadie and Shep were such big hits among the indie crowd. Greg's pride swelled at the multitude of cheering and applause. They showed him their new idea and he gasped with delight.

The tour was extended.

Steven called him earlier than planned--they were still on the bus--but Greg answered anyway, eager to talk to his son.

All too soon he lost reception. He huffed at the phone, but oh well. Later. He couldn't leave it at that, even if Steven had said he didn't need to talk about it. At the very least his son deserved a proper goodbye exchange, not being cut off like that.

When his phone rang again later, he expected it to be Steven.

It was not Steven, and the world went cold.

He couldn't get to the hospital fast enough. Even a warp wouldn't have taken him there fast enough. He needed to be there five minutes ago, three hours ago, yesterday, _weeks ago-_

Steven, a glowing pink giant, stuttering to explain what was happening. Weeping the most heartbreaking thing Greg thought he'd ever heard his child say. He hugged his finger, desperately wishing he could wrap himself around his son and never let go, stymieing the tears that threatened to well over only because Steven needed a steady rock right now.

Steven begged to go home. Greg was happy to oblige.

As they left out the back, Dr. Maheswaran waved her fingers a little to get his attention. Greg looked over, Steven oblivious as he put his shoulder into moving the door.

 _I need to talk to you later,_ she mouthed, face grim, eyes hard. For the third time that day, Greg felt his heart stutter in his chest. He nodded solemnly at the doctor, and followed Steven out.

He drove Steven home, allowing the tense ride to pass in silence, with just a few gentle pats to his back now and again at a stoplight. Steven was ashamed and humiliated and probably feeling trapped even in the confines of the familiar van. Home first. Conversation second. He didn't want Steven to feel stuck when they spoke.

Right now he just had to focus on the road through the pounding in his heart.

Steven froze as Greg nudged the screen door closed behind them and it took all of three seconds to see why. The freezer door lay on the floor.

"... We'll take care of that later," Greg decided. He turned to go upstairs and as he did the panic on Steven's face grew tenfold. Was he just that upset about the freezer?

The answer that awaited him at the top of the stairs was a definite no.

Greg stood there frozen at the sight of Steven's room. Oh god.

"I'm sorry."

He jolted and turned, finding Steven behind him, shrinking into himself. Greg shook his head, shoving every other thought away as an automatic "shhhh; it's okay" left his mouth.

He peered a little closer at his boy.

"When did you last shower?" he asked softly, gently.

"... Yesterday," he admitted, voice still a near whisper. "Morning."

"Okay. Why don't you grab some clean pajamas and go take a nice, hot shower." He drew his fingers through Steven's curls. "It'll help. Believe me."

Something in Steven's face relaxed a little. He walked past his father, dug through his dresser, and went back down the stairs.

Greg waited until he heard the water before taking a deep breath and getting to work.

He mopped ice cream up from the floor. Threw all the clothes in the hamper, started a load of laundry. He picked up the spilled cheese puffs balls and threw the ones on the floor away, twisting the cap on the jar and returning it to the kitchen. He emptied the freezer of what had gone bad while the freezer door wasn't secure. He threw away the bag of chips. He took the whole lot of garbage out to the curb all the way down the beach.

He straightened a few knickknacks on Steven's shelf.

 _My baby, my baby, my baby,_ every fiber of his being wailed in every heartbeat.

Connie hadn't walked away from their friendship. Connie hadn't even said she'd never date him.

All Connie had done was reject a marriage proposal at fifteen.

And yet, Steven spiraled down as if Connie had severed ties, had told him she had no feelings of that sort for him.

This wasn't normal. This wasn't _normal_.

_I think I’ve seen the world almost end so many times now that everything that goes wrong feels that extreme.  
I should be feeling so good these days.  
How do I move on from all the stuff I’ve been through?  
How do I live life if it always feels like I’m about to die?_

He had to choke back a sob- if he started crying now, he wouldn’t stop, and Steven loved taking long showers, but he couldn’t risk it.

_What is wrong with my baby? What **happened** to my baby?_

Steven emerged from his shower during the second load of laundry, going pink with shame. Greg didn't think twice before grabbing him in a tight hug, squeezing as if he could somehow wring the agony right out of him. Steven hesitated only a moment before clinging like he was a little boy again, burying his face in his father's shoulder. His body gave a great shudder.

Greg kissed his temple. "It'll be okay, schtu-ball," he murmured. "You go ahead and cry. It's okay. Dad's here."

Steven cried for twenty minutes before pulling back, his face wet with tears and snot, his skin thankfully no longer glowing. Greg guided him to the bathroom, gently instructed him to splash some cold water on his face, and while Steven did that, he started hot chocolate.

A long talk later and Steven was settling into bed, in his now clean room, his face pinched with exhaustion but eyes softened with gratitude and love.

"I love you, dad," he croaked. Greg tucked him in, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I love you too, always," he murmured. "You get some sleep, little man. I'll be right downstairs if you need me."

"A-are you sure? I won't- be offended if you wanna go sleep in the van or-"

"Right downstairs," he promised. "Goodnight, Steven."

Something flashed across his son's face, too brief to understand it. And then it was gone, Steven giving him a smile that mostly reached his eyes. "Goodnight, Dad."

Greg squeezed his hand one last time, turned out the light, grabbed the empty mug, and went downstairs, checking his phone instinctively.

Ah. Right. He thumbed over the lock screen (Steven of yesteryear, still with the tiny body that didn’t fit his actual age, all bright bubbly smiles and playing his guitar with a rockstar’s flourish) and brought up the last number to call him, selecting the call option as he set the mug down on the counter to be cleaned later.

"Dr. Maheswaran?"

"Mr. Universe." Her voice was a little stiff. Greg stepped out onto the porch. "We have a lot to talk about. I'll get right to the point: I took some x-rays of your son while he was here."

What she had to say about them chilled the spring air to winter.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: Reading another author's take on this reminded me that his normal clothes were actually still totally fine after he swelled up at the hospital so uh. Went and made adjustments to the story. Whoops.
> 
> After the new episodes I talked with my girlfriend and together we realized:
> 
> -whether he’s sixteen like the show states or seventeen like the timeline should suggest, Steven’s a minor; patient confidentiality doesn’t apply  
> -despite this whole thing obviously being off-the-record (and therefore, she could ignore the law that probably demands she inform Steven’s father) there’s no way Dr. Maheswaran would do that  
> -Dr. Maheswaran said in the episode itself “I’ll need to talk to your father.”  
> -she said it about the fact that Steven’s never been to a doctor, but the state of Steven’s mind and the physical proof of his skeleton are probably more pressing matters  
> -the next episode is called Mr. Universe and one of the leaks reveals what might happen in it and I’m betting this episode is the setup to that  
> -I'm like 90% sure most of the traumatic stuff Steven has been through is stuff he's never shared with his father, and I further bet that Greg's unfortunately failed attempt to have his panic attack out of his son's sight at the beginning of Full Disclosure is the root of that (it may have been played mildly for laughs but Greg's panic attack is what sets up the entire plot of the episode if you pay attention closely enough, because it's this panic attack that slaps Steven with the realization of how serious this all is and how easily Connie could be hurt or killed and how easily HE can be hurt or killed)  
> -the room is filthy at the start of the episode but by the time Greg’s putting him to bed and finishing up their talk, it’s clean  
> -there’s no way Greg involves Steven in the cleaning process when his son is this obviously unwell  
> -there’s also no way Greg doesn’t look at Steven’s room and not feel every parental instinct he has light itself on fire for reasons I hope I articulated well enough in the fic itself


End file.
